The Difference in Preference
by Hasegawa
Summary: Their lovemaking, if it could be called as one, was never soft or slow or romantic. For Krysania. A spin off of 'Harry Potter and the Death Wish'. Marvolo LV x Harry. PWP. Lemon.


For Krysania, the wonderful reader who sent me the invitation to AO3. Thank you so much!

BTW, IMPORTANT! I know this is PWP, so I will upload this to AO3 as well. If this ff account get deleted/banned, I wont upload this anymore to ff. (I might just move altogether to AO3, haha)

Summary: An epilogue of some sort for the future base on my story 'Harry Potter and The Death Wish'. If you want to understand then you may read that first. Their lovemaking, if it could be called as one, was never soft or slow or romantic. It would be rough, fighting for dominance and demanding full submission from the other. Sufficient to say, neither ever admitted defeat.

Rating: MA

Betaed by Blind_Alchemist. She is a savior, I tell you. hehehehe.

Pairing: Marvolo/LV x Harry.

Warning: Blindfold.

Marvolo is Lord Voldemort in full regalia.

Enjoy!

* * *

Their lovemaking, if it could even be _called_ that, was never soft, or slow, or romantic. It was always rough, each fighting the other for dominance and demanding full submission from the other. Suffice to say, neither ever admitted defeat.

_Why am I always the one receiving…oh. _Harry's mind ceased complaining when he felt that proud and engorged manhood pushing against that hot button—his prostate gland. He couldn't get away, because Marvolo was holding Harry down, using not only his long arms but also his superior weight. Currently Harry was lying on his stomach, with Marvolo on top of him, skin to skin; pushing him deep into the soft mattress with his bigger frame and heavier body. Below the boy's pelvis were nestled two pillows, placed strategically in order to give proper leverage to Harry's hips so that his arse was elevated. This perfectly eased Marvolo's intrusion.

Harry squirmed and grabbed the bed sheet, desperately trying to keep himself from moaning. It was always the number one rule of the game; Marvolo would do anything it took to make Harry surrender and moan for him. It was a hard rule to abide by, as Harry possessed nearly perfect self-control, as well as a cast-iron streak of resistance that was borne from his agonizing upbringing. Harry was very good at internalizing his moans. Usually the only time Harry ever moaned was whenever Harry came. This time was no exception.

Harry wanted to mewl. He bit the sheet underneath him; the sheet was now wet from sweat, tears, and… _other_ liquids (of various sources). The room was heavy with the scent of sex, Marvolo's pants, and the slapping sounds produced whenever Harry's arse cheeks rose to meet Marvolo's testicles. As Marvolo pounded Harry _hard_, he also maintained the talon-like hold he had over the boy's body and limbs.

Harry felt everything so clearly—every time Marvolo got it _in_, he felt full, the pressure building all the way into his belly—and when Marvolo pulled _out_, Harry felt like physically thrusting himself backwards because he didn't want the rigid stalk to leave his entrance.

"Moan for me, _Harry_," the older man whispered darkly into Harry's currently over-sensitive earlobe. Harry shuddered and all he wanted to do was thrust back, to encourage Marvolo's cock to enter deeper into him. His hole was already being thoroughly abused; Marvolo was never the one to stop after only one round of 'lovemaking'.

Then Marvolo did that—one of the Dark Lord's specialities—that _rotation_ with his hips which made the cock inside Harry quiver and squeeze against his prostate, touching everything inside Harry's back entrance and it was just, just wonderful.

"Hn," Harry sobbed into the sheet. No. He wouldn't moan now. No. But the manhood inside him was just too teasing and the heat of the strong body on top of him was just too much and he couldn't even move his limbs without Marvolo's permission…

It brought him to his end, almost.

Really, almost. Because the next moment Marvolo bit the back of his neck and Harry couldn't stand it, couldn't keep himself from coming all over the sheets, he couldn't control himself from throwing back his head and letting out a deep, loud moan.

"Marvolo!" Harry shouted and screamed as his own cock started to jerk and produce a flood of milky substance. It was not as thick as the first time he'd come that night, but still creamy nonetheless.

"Oh, Harry. Harry. You just so adorable." Marvolo chuckled and hissed at the same time, and Harry felt something exploding inside him; he felt the familiar hot wetness and the heated cock spasming inside his body, felt Marvolo's cum shooting deep within him.

They stopped their movements and Marvolo let himself crush his little lover into the mattress. After all, he'd ordered that special (specifically Charmed to be very soft, yet able to withstand a lot of pressure and movement) mattress for this. To ravish his little Harry. Harry panted underneath him, their sweat beads flowing down their skins and mixing together. Marvolo knew he should withdraw out of the boy's body, but he still wanted more. He could go on again, maybe. Maybe give it another go. Give him five minutes and Harry would be moaning and crying in another twenty minutes.

"Get off," Harry mumbled from underneath him. "I can't breathe."

Marvolo pretended he hadn't heard and nuzzled his mouth onto Harry's black mop-like hair.

It was a wonderful night.

* * *

"No. Stop. I don't want this." Harry shook his head, but Marvolo relentlessly chased after the reddened lips; kissing them again and again, _softly_.

They were inside their private room; outside, the usual Yule Ball was being held by the Malfoys and of course they were the guests of honour. But sometime in the middle of the ball they were separated due to their personal entanglements in the other partygoers' politics and other needs. Finally, when Marvolo had tracked him down, he'd found Harry being pinned to the wall by Blaise. It was the worst moment ever to be caught for Harry, because Blaise was confessing his love for him again. Again. After all this time.

Of course Marvolo wouldn't let it go unpunished. Harry knew he would be punished as soon as Marvolo grabbed his wrist and pulled Harry away from Blaise, who was then Obliviated. Harry was concerned about Blaise's mental health because the boy had received countless Obliviation spells, more than any other person around him in the entire school! All because Marvolo thought of Blaise as some kind of rival. Ridiculous.

When they entered their private room, Harry was immediately thrown towards the wall. Before he could collect himself, Marvolo was already grabbing his limbs and kissing him. Well, Harry was expecting chains and the whip; maybe the leather cock ring as punishment (they sometimes used all these at once. Especially whenever Marvolo had had a rough day and needed to vent. Or when Harry had had a rough day and needed some pain). But he'd never thought that Marvolo would be _gentle_. It was against the rules of their relationship; Harry found this gentle treatment somehow even worse than the usual punishment of being forced to wear a cock-ring.

"I don—hmph!" Harry locked his lips and didn't allow Marvolo's tongue to get into his mouth; but Marvolo settled with licking the skin around his mouth instead. And it was—hell—still as arousing as being kissed in the lips. Harry wondered sometimes why he was so sensitive to every whim of the Dark Lord.

When the tongue finally trailed down onto his neck, leaving a row of wet kisses, Harry looked away. "I don't need this. Stop."

"Just enjoy this, Child."

"No. Fuck me like you usually do. Don't… don't be…" _soft_. _Gentle_._ Loving. As if you love me._

"I will show you that I can be as gentle as _your_ Blaise Zabini," Marvolo hissed in a voice rife with a mixture of jealousy and anger, but also a hint of insecurity. "You'll see. This time, I'll make you moan even before you come."

"N..No!" Harry stumbled, pushing Marvolo away from him. He spun around and tried to run. Marvolo was faster and grabbed Harry's hips so that the boy couldn't move. Harry knew he couldn't run away now, even if he used magic. He didn't want to, though. He didn't like hurting anyone unnecessarily, especially Marvolo.

"Isn't this why you still find Zabini's attention _flattering_?" Marvolo hissed as he traced Harry's earlobe with his tongue. Harry felt the hot breath on his cheek and ear. It was too arousing. No. "Because I never do you gently, that you find the need to seek out another lover?"

"You are wrong. Don't be…_hn_. Ridiculou…Stop!"

To his astonishment, Marvolo did stop. Harry turned to face Marvolo and saw the red-brown eyes staring at him deeply. For a moment, neither moved, much less breathed. Harry swallowed hard.

"Wha..What?" the boy stuttered. His cheeks flushed.

"You are beautiful. I have always told you so. But are my words enough for you? Do you want more? More admirers, more lovers?" Marvolo whispered as his long fingers traced the edges of Harry's high cheekbone. "What is it that I am not doing right, Child?"

"You are doing nothing wrong," Harry answered honestly. "I don't need admirers. They are just… just… minions…?"

But the older man shook his head. "I think I know what I can do for you. Just for tonight. Just… tonight."

Marvolo moved away from him, and Harry was frozen. He had wanted to run a few minutes before and now he couldn't. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to reassure the man in front of him that he, Marvolo, was the most important man in Harry's life. Marvolo was, after all, his first in everything—his first guardian, first teacher, first kiss, first sex, first _love_ maybe—and Harry would never be able to replace him. No matter what happens in one's life, one never forgets their first.

As the boy contemplated, Marvolo swiftly moved across the room. Harry turned his head just in time to see Marvolo walking towards him, with a piece of long black cloth on his hand.

Harry was quiet as Marvolo slowly wrapped that cloth around his skull; covering his eyes. Again and again, until it was pitch black and Harry could see nothing.

When Harry opened his mouth to ask why Marvolo was doing this, the very familiar lips kissed him slowly, gently, teasing Harry's lips until he felt ticklish. Harry opened his mouth to allow access, and it was then that he heard Marvolo's soft whisper.

"Imagine me as one of your admirers; imagine tonight that I am one of _them_."

Harry wanted to shake his head, but a finger trailed down his cheek slowly, descending onto his neck. Harry lifted his neck automatically, allowing more access.

And the night continued in that fashion.

Slow fingers trailed along his skin, caressing and making circles upon his sensitive areas; his inner wrist, and along his stomach. A hot, wet, gentle tongue trailed along his nipples, sucking slowly, and then tweaking them playfully. Harry couldn't handle all the sensations, he begged several times for Marvolo to stop, to slow down, but Marvolo didn't stop. And he didn't respond whenever Harry called his name, Marvolo.

Slowly, in the darkness, Harry felt his senses working overtime, compensating for the lack of visual stimulation; he began to react more sensitively to small noises, smells and touches. He could hear Marvolo's soft (Harry started to hate, hate so very much, this word) breathing. He could smell Marvolo's wonderful scent around him (he knew it so well, oh yes, how many mornings had he woken up with Marvolo's scent lingering on his body, like he was marked?). He could feel every single touch and caress and contact Marvolo made on his body.

In the middle of it all, Harry suddenly realized that Marvolo wanted him to think about somebody else. To imagine Marvolo as _another_. Yet it had backfired. No, Harry couldn't keep his mind off of Marvolo. Marvolo's body, Marvolo's heat, Marvolo's scent, Marvolo's wonderful hand, "…Oh! Ohhh! Don't… don't stop."

When he realized it, Harry gasped. He actually moaned even though he wasn't cumming. He had forgotten to control himself.

He heard Marvolo sighing. Suddenly Harry felt terrible.

Why?

He didn't have time to think anymore when suddenly his manhood was engulfed in a mouth. Warm and hot and moist. A mouth he knew so well. Marvolo loved to suck him while preparing his arse hole. It kept the pain at bay. But this time, there was no finger inside his back entrance; all efforts were focused on Harry's hardening cock.

Marvolo sucked and fondled Harry's balls at the same time. Harry gasped and moaned—at this point, he couldn't think anymore—but he found it frustrating that he couldn't come either. He missed the hard length that would plunge inside his body, forcing Harry to ejaculate. He missed Marvolo.

"Nnnh… stop. Enter me," Harry begged, whined, sounding so pitiful. "Marvolo… enter me."

"I am not..." the man seemed to protest when he heard his name being called, but Harry could bear no more. The desire was burning his belly and his manhood was so hot and all he needed to complete the whole process was the hot rod inside him. He needed it so much. He couldn't stand it anymore.

"I know it's you, and there would never be another. Just… just enter, just _fuck me_!" Harry shouted loudly, gasping when his frustrations reached its peak.

Everything was better after that. His cock was forgotten, and his—maybe—lover focused on preparing him instead. The familiar tongue was now flicking, tasting, opening, loosening his hole excitedly. It was soon accompanied by a finger. Two fingers. And suddenly four fingers. And they _twisted_. Harry felt a jolt of pure bliss when they pressed right at the spot that mattered. He moaned loudly, encouraging more. Harry unconsciously wiggled his hips, letting the fingers fuck him even deeper. He needed that.

And soon, the fingers were replaced by a stalk hotter, slicker, and way more arousing than fingers. When it was buried inside him to the hilt, Harry stopped breathing and mewled so hard.

_There. Yes, there. Finally. It belonged there._

That night there was no fight for dominance; there was only ecstasy, two lovers enjoying each other's body until both were fully satisfied. They slipped straight into a deep slumber, blissfully unaware of the strangers, the tidings, the Yule Ball being held mere feet from their guest room in the esteemed Malfoy Manor.

* * *

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